Sleepytime Secrets
by mandaree1
Summary: The Duck-McDuck family goes Ghostbuster-ing. Louie and Webby try to decipher if a shadow can have a ghost in the first place.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!**

 **Title: Sleepytime Secrets**

 **Summary: The Duck-McDuck family goes Ghostbuster-ing. Louie and Webby try to decipher if a shadow can have a ghost in the first place.**

 **...**

Scrooge rolled his newspaper up, having finally worked his way through the funnies. The breakfast table was as quiet as ever, filled with the sounds of chewing and the odd spat, but that didn't stop him from slapping the table to catch their attention.

"All," he announced. "I do believe we're bein' haunted."

"Uh, Uncle Scrooge?" Huey gestured to Duckworth, currently in the middle of refilling his glass of milk.

"No, not _him_. Another ghostie."

"It's not uncommon for spirits to hang about the mansion," Duckworth said as he set the pitcher down. "Mr. McDuck has grown a menagerie of enemies, some of which have passed on, and they almost always attempt some form of haunting. But this one feels... different."

"Malevolent?" Beakley chipped in, pouring syrup over her pancakes. "Or is it simply a type of ghoul you haven't had the chance to interact with before?"

"The latter. But I _have_ only been back a few months. You've been here how many years now and you _still_ can't dust the china right?"

"You're lucky you're dead, or I'd snap your neck for that."

Scrooge smacked the table once again. "I'm organizin' a hunt. We're gonna search this place from top to bottom." The old duck's voice fell into a mutter. "S'bad enough I have to deal with ghosts of the people I hate. I might as well know what I'm up against."

"Are we going all Ghostbusters on this?" Dewey asked, eyes shining. "Are we Ghostbuster-ing?"

"No. We're searching." Scrooge was cutting himself a triangle out of his pancakes, seemingly settled now that he'd gotten his piece in. "Whatever- whoever- it is, they're too weak to make an impression, so it'll be plenty safe."

"It better be," Beakley said in that tone of voice that tended to make people agree with her on the principle.

* * *

"Webby, you're gonna stretch the fabric!" Louie whined, following obediently behind the duckling as they waddled their way away from the rest of the group, hoodie sleeve held tightly in a friendship-bracelet-ed hand. It had been Beakley's idea for them to get some weapons around, just in case, which led to the improbably odd scenario of Louie clutching a tennis racket while Webby waggled a dagger around like it was a pointer.

Webby whirled him around a corner, giving a little shove for good measure, before explaining. "I can't let anyone in my room."

Louie's brow furrowed. "If you've stashed _another_ griffin egg in the laundry basket, then you're on your own."

"No, nothing like that." She bit her lip nervously. "I... might have dug out an old nightlight after the shadow war."

"So?"

"It's embarrassing, Louie! TV and books told me I'm too old for that kind of thing!"

"My dear, sweet Webbigail. TV _lies_." He slung an arm across her shoulders. "Everybody's got something they do to make themselves feel safer at night. Lock the doors, fluff the pillows, plug in the ol' nightlight. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, yeah?" she challenged. "What's _your_ sleepytime secret?"

Louie cleared his throat and looked away. "Look, if I go in with you so you have an alibi for your room, will it make you feel better?"

Webby nodded.

"Then let's go already. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can retake my throne on the couch."

That said, Louie showed no particular rush. Webby closed the door behind them as he kicked his feet up, sinking into one of her chairs. "There, we went in. That's good enough, right?"

"Webby, please," he tutted, pulling out his phone. "We can't go _too_ fast, or they'll know it was a ruse. Give it five minutes."

Webby hopped up on the other chair, fiddling with her hands. She'd never been very fond of waiting for nothing. "Is your sleepytime secret a nightlight?"

Louie breathed out a sigh. "No, Webs, it's not a-" He paused, catching something out of the corner of his eye. "Webby, did you just reach for my shoulder?"

"What? No." Her beak scrunched up. "Why would you say that?"

The youngest triplet didn't reply. He furiously typed something into a search bar, muttering to himself as he did so. He gestured to the wall with his eyes, then quickly hit a button and flipped the phone around, revealing a newly downloaded flashlight app. Something dark and murky flitted by, yelped, and vanished.

"Whelp," he said. "I think your room is being haunted, Webs."

"Phooey," Webby said.

* * *

"Mr. McDuck."

"Ulgh, I hate that tone of voice," Scrooge said. The old duck was hobbling determinedly down the stone hallway that led to his camera room, Beakley close behind. The slight chill in the air did nothing to perk up his mood. "That's the tone of voice yew get when yer about ta' lecture me."

Beakley didn't rise to the bait. "I'm very happy that you're able to be with your family, sir, and that you can continue the adventures you so love. But that _doesn't_ change the fact that safety is a priority you clearly have been ignoring."

"S'that so? Then I suppose yew'd like to tag along more; to help us with that."

She scowled. "I don't get paid to drop my mop every time you get bored sitting around the house. You can't possibly expect me to forfeit my wages."

Scrooge came to a stop, Beakley almost slamming into him. He shuffled a bit so they were eye to eye, leaning heavily on his cane. He hated the cold almost as much as his joints did. "Bentina," he prompted. "Do yew trust me or not?"

Beakley stared down at him, baffled. "I trust you with my life, sir. I think I've proven that many times. But you're ten years rusty-"

"Yer even rustier," he shot back.

" _And_ you're excitable. But you're not just risking your own neck anymore. I just want you to keep that in mind hereafter."

"I'd never put them in over their heads."

"You already have. More than once. The boys might have the McDuck genes, but they aren't trained. I know you think highly of them, but I just don't want you to have to face another-"

"Yew finish that sentence, 22..." Scrooge trailed off, seeming to realize that he'd gone too far, but Beakley acquiesced regardless. "I brought ya here fer a reason, but if ye'd rather discuss semantics, we can go right back up."

"With your knees? I doubt it."

"I cannae lie to yew, Beakley. Probably has somethin' to do with the lie detection classes ye took." That got a rueful chuckle out of him. "I've known about this little ghostie for a while now, and I thought yew'd like to be in on that."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm to assume it's not dangerous, then."

Scrooge answered by gesturing her to follow him into the security room. Most of the mansion was under surveillance- technically. But they all knew most of the cameras were turned off or around for the sake of privacy. Break-ins were so common they weren't really considered threats anymore; they could handle themselves in the time it would take for the police to get up the hill to the house, leaving no need for video evidence of any wrongdoings.

"Found this a week or so ago," he explained, pulling up a file. The footage was fuzzy and grainy- the cameras were also pretty outdated- but Beakley could make out the Beagle Boys when they tumbled in through a window. Burger hoisted up a large bag and turned to speak to Bigtime, who seemed to be insisting they do something; presumably kidnap the boys.

She shook her head bemusedly. "They could've at least stolen a vase or something."

Her good humor vanished when Webby appeared on-screen, sleepily heading for one of the bathrooms. One of Bouncer's ears raised. He waved a big paw for silence. Webby didn't seem to notice- or maybe she didn't care- opening the door and flicking the lights on. As she crossed the floor onto the tile her shadow drew long behind her, seeming to gain a mind of its own. It twisted around the corner and swallowed the Beagle Boys.

"Well," Beakley said. "I retake my not dangerous statement."

"Jus' watch," he instructed. The shadow seemed to shrink as the criminals ran out from whence they came, all carrying various bruises. It slid up the wall slightly, looking directly at the camera with empty white eyes. A finger reached up to press against a shadowy beak. A flash of blue and they were gone. "Seems to me like it's fond of yer granddaughter, 22."

Beakley cracked her knuckles. "If it even _thinks_ of any funny business it'll become _fond_ of the fires of hell."

"Now, now. I donnae thinks it's harmful." A twinkle entered the old duck's eye. "Quite the opposite, actually. I only know one blue shadow that'd have a hankerin' for protecting Webbigail."

She paused. "You don't mean..."

"It's up to them to figure it out," he replied.

* * *

"Get the lights!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Louie spat back, scrambling across the room. "I _knew_ I should've brought my khopesh."

Webby, busy rummaging through drawers for flashlights, snorted. "Yeah, right. You would've spent the whole time worried you'd smudge it."

"It's a beautiful piece of art and it deserves to be respected as such!" He hit the switch, plunging the room into darkness. "Right. Catching an evil shadow monster. That's something normal kids do."

She chucked the flashlight to him, pulling out her jewel-encrusted knife. "This can catch and hold pretty much anything. If we're gonna get this spook, this is our best chance of doing it."

Louie aimed and hit the button, casting Webby's shadow onto the wall. It shifted, testing the waters, before ultimately realizing its predicament and swirling in circles, looking for an escape. The flashlight wobbled a bit in Louie's unsure grip, prompting Webby to walk slowly closer and closer. The knife glittered in her hand.

"Must be hard to be a shadow when there's only one light," Louie commented. "There's really only one way you can go."

Webby jabbed the knife tip into the wall. The shadow curved around it with a look of shock. "Spill your guts, shadow! Did Magica de Spell send you? Do you intend to hurt Scrooge McDuck?"

"Ooh, are we doing good cop-bad cop?"

"Pretty much."

"And you're the bad cop, right?"

"I _am_ pointing a knife at it, so yeah, probably."

Louie snapped his fingers and pointed a friendly finger gun at her as he passed. An easy-going smile swept across his face. "Excuse my consort- she's been a bit edgy since the money bin blew." The green triplet leaned on the wall. "I'll bet you're a real good kid, deep down. Want to make up for the wrongs your old master has done, amiright?" The shadow's eyes narrowed with disgust. "Listen, if you can just relax and answer a few questions, I'll see about getting you some creature comforts from home."

The shadow shrunk, melting into a puddle. Louie leaned down, trying to decipher where this was going, only for it to jump up and scare him. Louie yelled and stumbled back, flashlight rolling across the floor. A zap of blue had Webby dropping her knife, and then the shadow was slipping out the doorway.

"You let the hallway lights on!" she cried.

"Phooey!" Louie yelled, getting to his feet. "I hate running after stuff."

Now that it was in the open hallway, the shadow seemed to ignore even basic shadow physics, twisting around the corner even when Webby stopped. She jabbed the blade into the floor, only to receive a light shock for it.

Louie and Webby managed to corral it into the boys' bedroom. Louie pulled his beloved khopesh out of the chest they kept toys in, pointing it threateningly towards the shadow. It twisted and slipped beneath Louie's covers. The ducklings grabbed a corner each and pulled, sending the blanket flying.

Webby blinked at the mostly empty sheets, save for a gray bounder-shape creature adorned with a pink bow in the center. "Is that... a walrus?"

"His name is Funsie. I won him at Funzo's when I was, like, five," Louie grunted, picking the stuffed animal up. If Webby didn't know better, she'd think he was blushing. "I... use him to sleep. Sometimes. Maybe."

"Awwww, he looks like such a little gentleman," she cooed. Webby carefully took Funsie from his hands. "There's nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffies, you know. I do."

"You also play interrogation with them."

"They're the only slimeballs I can never make talk." Webby bumped noses with the walrus. "I bet you'd tell me where the nukes were, huh? You've got an honest soul."

"Boo," Funsie said.

Webby shrieked and tosses the stuffed animal onto the bed, grabbing her knife. "IT'S IN FUNSIE!"

"Nooo!" Louie grabbed her arm. "Don't hurt Funsie!"

"Hey, dweebs," the stuffed animal went on dryly. "Chill."

The familiar tone of voice made both ducklings freeze. Webby's eyes grew wide and wet. "...Lena?"

* * *

Scrooge McDuck is a proud man, and Beakley knew full well how hard it was for him to accept her hand on his elbow as they went back upstairs, and it's for that reason alone she puts a short hiatus on their argument. Being stuck in a timeless demon dimension may halt the aging process, but it didn't do much for joints. Until he went back to the Fountain of Youth he was bound to be sore.

"So," she prompted when they reached the top. "You've known about this for over a week now. Why wait this long?"

"I wanted to see what she'd do. She clearly knew she was on camera. But everything went quiet." Scrooge sighed and shook his head. "Listen, Beakley. Whatever comes outta this is surely gonna be emotional. So, if'n yew don't mind... maybe comfort foods for dinner instead of your usual amazing steak?" He paused. "...Children still like mac 'n cheese, right?"

Beakley raised an eyebrow. "If you think I'm making enough mac 'n cheese for a herd of hungry children by myself, you've gone mad."

"Well, I'm certainly not helpin'. I pay ye to do it."

"Then you can dock half my pay for today." She took him by the arm again, this time mostly just to irritate. "I'm sure you've got some old family recipe in that head of yours somewhere."

* * *

"Ooooh, Lena!" Webby pulled Funsie to her chest with a sniffle. "I thought you were dead!"

"I kind of am? I think? I never had this kind of power when I was Magica's shadow, that's for sure."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she demanded, scowling as if Funsie had personally harmed her.

"I tried to, Webby," Lena emphasized. "I just get tired so easy these days, and with you weirdos and your crazy lifestyle I've been stuck choosing to speak or choosing to help." The stuffed face had no expression to it, but there was the impression of a frown in her voice. "I didn't know I could do this."

"Really?"

"I mean, Aunt Magica's possessed me before. But I didn't think I could use inanimate objects."

Louie poked the toy in the back. "You get any gross ectoplasm on Funsie and the dry-cleaning bill's coming out of your pocket, Lena. You hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, spoil the moment s'more you broccoli stick."

Webby lifted Funsie up to her eye-level. "It's fine. I'll have plenty of time to freak out later." She wiped a few spare tears away. "First things first, Lena. How can we fix this?"

"I don't think fixing is a thing here."

"I don't accept that."

Lena sighed. "Alright. I _guess_ my old books are a good place to start. They might have something for a voodoo potion- if you could get me one of those, I wouldn't have to possess this dorky thing."

" _This dorky thing_ is Funsie, and he's a gentleman and a scholar." Louie shoved the toy into his hoodie pocket. "Keep quiet. We're gonna have to sneak you out of the house."

* * *

"Remind me again how you're even slightly capable of taking care of children," Beakley prompted as she wiped a smear of cheese off the clock. "You can't even make mac 'n cheese."

"Don't mock me," he grumbled, stirring their second batch of noodles and sauce together. "If ye really thought that way, ye'd never allow me ta' take 'em anywhere."

Beakley hummed to herself. "Y'know, I didn't learn how to cook until I was out of the house."

"Really?"

"Really. S.H.U.S.H. was more than willing to provide me with healthy, filling meals during my service. I never had a need to." She went about wiping her hands on a dish towel. "My mother always thought I was too bulky to be a fitting wife, you see. So she never saw the point in teaching me."

"I was under the impression yer mother was a lot like yew."

"She was. And, like me, she didn't want her family to go through any unnecessary agony. If she could've found me a nice spouse and a nice house, she would have; but I never fit the societal idea of beauty, so she taught me how to fight instead." Beakley shook her head. "I guess what I'm getting at is people have expectations for what a person should or shouldn't be good at, and that can hinder learning. It's not a big surprise you need someone around the house to keep it orderly."

Scrooge flicked the burner off. "Yer a grand woman, 22. Anyone with a brain would know it's an honor to be with yew."

"Appreciated, Mr. McDuck," Beakley said. "My point being that taking care of someone is a multi-step process, and it's normal to be unprepared for every little thing. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't learn."

"Y'know, Duckworth doesn't lecture me like this."

Her frown sharpened. "Duckworth doesn't have a feather on me."

* * *

It's with great luck that Louie and Webby slip out the front door just as something reeking of burnt cheese explodes. The day has waned into the early evening, that time where the world's palette seems to become a shade darker, the air a smidge cooler, and the people antsy to go home. Louie and Webby mostly melted in the crowd, save for the very obvious khopesh on Louie's back and the knife clutched tightly in Webby's hand.

Louie held Funsie while Webby stamped her foot on the board that brought up the entrance to Lena's room. Recent rainfall made its typical musty smell overwhelming as they tromped down the steps. Webby clicked on the black light, tinging their feathers purple.

The room was a mess. The bed had been overturned and littered with the shredded remains of Lena's posters. The dead plant pot had been knocked aside, and the dirt spread around, as if someone expected something to be hidden inside. A candle was shoved into the eye socket of the old skull she kept on her desk. Worst of all was the desk, which had been broken into splinters.

"Oh no." Lena let out a long sigh. "Love you too, Aunt Magica."

"She must've ransacked the place," Louie said unnecessarily as he kicked a bed post. "Any chance your books are still here?"

"Doubt it. They were the only useful things I owned."

"What? No!" Webby thrust her hands under the covers, searching. "They can't be gone!"

"Webby, _it's okay_ ," Louie said, squeezing her shoulder. "There's plenty of magic books out there."

"But that takes time! Time we don't have!" She whirled around, flinging her hands out. "It could take weeks to search all the enchanted temples and graveyards to find even a basic tome!"

"It's not like she's going anywhere."

"Actually," the toy said, and Webby stiffened. "I really appreciate this, you guys. I do. But I don't think I can hold on for much longer."

Webby took Funsie from Louie. "But we just got the band back together! I haven't even gotten past the shock stage and into the sobbing uncontrollably stage! It's only fair you're here for that!"

"I'll still be here, it's just... i'm _tired,_ Webs. I gotta recharge." Blue gunk seeped out of Funsie's eyes and to the floor. Lena's shadow stood out from the pile, reaching out to try and hold the distraught duckling's hand, only for it to pass through. "Listen to me, pink. If you're this gung-ho about getting me back- about me..." She swallowed. "We'll have monster sleepovers, okay? And I'll lose the tooth brushing game and have to redo it so many times a dentist would kill for my teeth."

Webby hesitated. "No more secrets?"

"No more secrets," she responded. "I'll be so honest you'll get sick of it."

"I'll hold you to that."

Louie examined the defiled skull with a scowl. "Is there anything we should take back? Most of this is junk but it could be, like, special junk or something."

Lena reluctantly pointed at the discarded lava lamp. "I would ask for my posters, but they're trashed." Her head tucked into her shoulders. "I, uh, I like to leave it on at night."

Webby smiled in spite of the tears. "A sleepytime secret."

* * *

No one reported on any discoveries as they ate dinner, though it was hard not to notice Webby's emotional shifts between overjoyed and overwhelmed.

"Is that Funsie?" Huey asked, pointing at the stuffed walrus in her arms. "I thought you got rid of him years ago."

Louie shrugged, not meeting his eye. "Not the time, Huey."

"Granny, can I keep a lava lamp in my room?" Webby squeezed Funsie for comfort. "I... think it'll help me sleep better."

Beakley's eyebrows quirked, but she seemed to recognize it wasn't the right time to press for details. "Of course, darling. Whatever helps."

 **Author's Note: Eyyy, almost four thousand words! Nice.**

 **I've been meaning to write this for a bit. There's been a bunch of lovely 'fics about Webby finding out Lena is alive, but I wanted to try the concept from a different angle. I have a lot of fun writing Louie and Webby interactions- they play off each other real well. =)**

 **The Beakley-Scrooge sideplot kind of evolved out of nowhere, but I appreciate it nonetheless.**

 **-Mandaree1**


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